Paladin of the Dead God

Isaac watched as Dera Heman’s body slowly began to glow, his form consumed by a brilliant white light.

The first to ignite were his seven eyes, burning with an otherworldly brilliance—light from beyond this world, using Dera’s mortal body as a vessel. It was a glow that seeped from the cracks of heaven itself. Even the drops of blood Dera had shed began to shimmer, turning into sacred flames.

As the light spread across the monastery, the surrounding paladins were the first to react. They immediately fell to their knees, bowing in reverence. They knew what was happening.

With their faces to the ground, they began chanting hymns, praising the angel who had descended upon this forsaken monastery. Soltnar Culvain, too, realized the identity of the celestial being and felt a feverish warmth overwhelm him. Instinctively, he fell prostrate, offering praises to the approaching divinity.

Isaac, utterly drained, could barely move, but he, too, understood what was happening.

An angel was coming.

An angel who divided the world into black and white with the clarity of their light.

“The Burning Maiden, may your holy flame illuminate us, leaving not a shadow behind!” Soltnar cried out in fervor.

Dera Heman, now engulfed in silent flames, slowly rose to his feet. His mask shattered, he should have been on the verge of death. Yet, the mere presence of the angel filling his body rejuvenated him, infusing him with divine strength.

‘As expected… it’s Isboseth,’ Isaac thought grimly.

He had anticipated this particular angel’s arrival.

Of the four Archangels currently active within the Codex of Light, only one seemed likely to intervene—Isboseth, the Burning Maiden.

And from Soltnar’s excessive, borderline fanatical praise, Isaac understood why. Isboseth was the first Inquisitor—the very embodiment of heresy’s judge and executioner.

The Burning Maiden, now occupying Dera Heman’s body, turned her radiant gaze upon Isaac.

“…I greet the Burning Maiden,” Isaac managed to say, his body growing uncomfortably warm under her gaze. Though she wasn’t literally spewing fire, the sheer intensity of the light emanating from Dera’s seven eyes felt as scorching as the flames of the Luadin Key. If she wanted, her gaze alone could likely incinerate a man.

Barely able to withstand the heat, Isaac forced himself to continue.

“It was a fair trial by combat, and I emerged victorious.”

He needed to speak before Soltnar could twist the situation in his favor. The paladins remained silent, clearly unsure of how to respond. But angels rarely cared for human words.

[How are you still alive?]

The voice that rang out in Isaac’s mind wasn’t one of kindness or curiosity. The Burning Maiden seemed genuinely puzzled by his survival as she extended her hand toward him. Isaac’s instincts screamed in warning—he knew that if she touched him, he would die.

[The Nameless Chaos is watching you.]

Angels brought both absolute fairness and unthinkable absurdity with their presence. For Isaac, the only way to survive the sheer unfairness of their divine intervention was to prepare for it.

*BOOM! BOOM!*

Suddenly, the Milishar Monastery shook violently.

“What the—! An earthquake?!” someone shouted.

The moment an angel descends, the area becomes a sacred temple, a holy sanctuary. Unsure if they should cause a commotion within such a sanctified space, the paladins hesitated, unsure of what to do. The Burning Maiden, too, paused, retracting her hand as her seven eyes turned toward the source of the disruption. �

Several more tremors followed, louder each time, until their cause was revealed. *Boom!* A massive object crashed through the ancient stone walls of the monastery, stopping just short of striking the Burning Maiden. It was a harpoon—one as large as the anchors used to halt ships weighing thousands of tons.

Harpoons pierced through various sections of the monastery.

“Pull!” a voice commanded from outside.

With a blaring horn in the distance, the chains attached to the harpoons tightened, straining with immense force.

*Crack! Crack! Crack!* The Milishar Monastery, which had stood for centuries, began to crumble. Neglected and worn down by time, the monastery’s stone walls were now exposed to the fierce sea wind. Outside, the silhouette of dozens of ships could be seen through the mist and spray of the ocean as they retrieved the harpoons.

“It’s the Salt Council’s fleet!”

***

“So it’s come to this, hasn’t it? Chairperson Yenkos Hare,” said the Salt Council fleet captain, standing on the deck of her ship, watching as the monastery began to fall apart.

“All we can do now is hope no one gets skewered by one of those harpoons, Captain Eidan.”

Chairperson Yenkos gnawed at her fingernails as she nervously watched the once-sturdy Milishar Monastery collapse under their assault. If she knew they had nearly impaled the Burning Maiden herself with one of their harpoons, she might have fainted on the spot, but thankfully, she remained unaware.

It was, after all, still a monastery of the Codex of Light, even if it had long been abandoned. For the Salt Council, who had suffered greatly at the hands of the Codex, there was an underlying sense of fear that gripped them despite their actions. And to make matters worse, inside that monastery were the Golden Lion Paladins, the Codex’s strongest knights.

But they had no choice but to attack. Captured inside the monastery was the man who might be their savior, the Dreamer—Isaac.

“Sir Isaac didn’t want things to come to this either. He agreed to a fair trial, but if they persecuted him unjustly, he asked for our help. We’re just doing our best,” Eidan said grimly.

The sudden appearance of the Salt Council’s fleet was no coincidence.

When Isaac sent out the Issacrea Dawn Army, he had also informed the Salt Council of his intentions. The unknown fourth unit of the Issacrea Dawn Army was, in fact, the Salt Council’s fleet, which had departed to intervene if things went wrong.

And just as they arrived, the Golden Lion Paladins had detained Isaac. He had asked the Salt Council to serve as his “insurance”—to offer him a chance to escape if the trial’s outcome turned against him unfairly.

Of course, whether the process was fair or not, Isaac had never intended to die.

And now, with Isaac having emerged victorious in his trial by combat, the intervention of an angel was nothing short of unjust. As such, it was time for Isaac to fight back.

“Let’s just hope Sir Isaac makes it out safely,” Eidan muttered, watching the chaos unfold.

Eidan kept his eyes on the skies above the Milishar Monastery.